𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 || 敵の旦那様 (𝐁𝐋) ✔ [COMPLETE]

51. Lying to Oneself

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It didn't matter, he thought as he held Fu Lin's face.

He ran his hands through the black tresses falling in unruly curves and brushed the obstinate fringe brushing his forehead. With eyes that were diluted by an unfathomable sense of ferocity and brows scrunched in thirst for something painful, he had the most intoxicating face a human being could ever possess in the General's eyes. General Haoran threw his arms around Fu Lin inhaling his scent. No trace of jasmine was left anymore–but a mix of perfumed agarwood and Fu Lin's slick sweat.

It didn't matter if Fu Lin's presence hurt him. He couldn't let Fu Lin go.

Fu Lin responded by clinging to his back, his fingers digging into the General's back. As their heat melded into one and skin entwined, separated by a thin layer of official robes, their embrace turned into one of suffocating pain. A throb trickled. A throb that permeated the callouses in his fingertips and the pulse of his neck, with the need to etch himself on Fu Lin. His vigorous embrace turned to a muffled rolling and Fu Lin ended with his spine against the cold floor, facing the General.

General Haoran's eyes drooped, his lips closing in on Fu Lin's. Fu Lin's hands pressed against the General's lips rapidly.

General Haoran looked at Fu Lin's vision that had now seemed to attain some clarity. It seems the rush and high of desperation in his eyes had faded and were now glistening with silent trepidation. He looked bewildered and was panting heavily even as his hands on the General's lips shook. General Haoran, rather shamelessly, kissed his palm.

Fu Lin retracted his hand as if he was burned. Lies.

General Haoran thought as he kept observing Fu Lin's eyes that shook in dangerous anticipation and wavered whenever he brought himself closer to him. He had the eyes of a man who hid his desires by a thin curtain of rejection–a man constantly teetering the edge of want and necessity. A man incapable of lying to the world but is accustomed to lying to oneself.

General Haoran abruptly got up and turned on his heels, leaving Fu Lin in the dust. However, at this moment, he couldn't care. Right now, all he wanted to do was hide his face from Fu Lin and nothing more.

Because he was certain his joy would show on his face.

He didn't want Fu Lin to go back to his cold cavern of guilt and rejection once he saw the General's face. He didn't want Fu Lin to go into self-mortification, thinking he was responsible for the happiness the General felt and close himself away from the General again.

An incredible burst of joy incurred within the General. When Fu Lin rejected him, while he had the conjecture that Fu Lin could have feelings for him but was simply lying to himself, with time he eventually gave up on the idea. Because even as Fu Lin stood, his complete mistreatment of the confession and the absolutely non-existent desire he harboured towards the General receded any remaining feelings.

But now, Fu Lin had displayed absolute urgency in asking him to not separate himself. General Haoran's lips quirked up involuntarily.

Since that day, General Haoran never left the Manor–but he didn't cross the comfort line Fu Lin had drawn to himself either. The last thing he wanted was for Fu Lin to go into complete withdrawal. Hence he simply gazed from a distance, basking in the joy of watching Fu Lin's movements; how his thin silver chain belt lilted with every tilt of his hip or how his fringe danced about brashly despite his effort to tame it.

He was so delighted that he even began talking with one of the servants of the manor, "His Highness, the Seventh Prince... he looks appealing to the eyes, doesn't he?"